


Number One Fan

by dicks



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 11:20:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7266052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicks/pseuds/dicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It took a while, but Yamamoto finally understood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Number One Fan

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Based from the song, Fan by Epik High. Beta by izkariote . Written for hanashiki

  
**01\. Oh so beautiful!**  
  
He barely remembered how it ended up with only two of them in the roof. He didn’t remember when he had drained the last drop of his chocolate drink as he was holding the empty box. He had forgotten to wear his jacket and the wind was biting his skin, goosebumps were forming on his arms.  
  
But he remembered staring at Gokudera as he leaned against the wall.   
  
Eyes closed, hair swept by the wind, lips curled downward in a small scowl and one hand still holding an unlit cigarette. Yamamoto remembered how he thought it was funny that he found the other boy was sorta pretty.   
  
He remembered how he stared at the other boy like he was under some kind of spell, almost bewildered, until Gokudera smacked him hard on the back of his head. He whimpered, then grinned, and then there were little flutters in his stomach.  
 _  
Brilliance. That was him somehow._  
  
He remembered laughing carelessly because he felt ridiculously happy.  
  
He remembered.  
  
-  
  
 **02\. I always talk to you with your back facing me  
**  
“How could you be so stupid over something so simple like this?” Gokudera snapped.  
  
He laughed.  
  
“I am doing this because I promised Tenth. Not for you.”  
  
“I know, I know.”  
  
“And you’d better pay attention because I’m not gonna fucking repeat this again!”  
  
Yamamoto grinned, “Okay.”  
  
He watched Gokudera from the corner of his eyes. The other boy was flipping the pages of his book searching for something. He was unconsciously chewing the back of his pencil and Yamamoto couldn’t tear his eyes away from those lips.  
  
When he found what he was looking for, Gokudera pointed to page in front of him and started explaining again.   
  
But Yamamoto’s mind was somewhere else. He was busy focusing on the long fingers as they danced along the rough surface of the page.  
  
-  
  
 **03\. But you're always in my head**  
  
As he was laying on the bed in the dark, he had lost the track of time. Something about the quiet of the night or the darkness beyond three feet of his vision, and the silence. He closed his eyes, settled himself in the comfortable darkness.  
  
Lately, Yamamoto’s night was made up of sleepless nights, tracing cracks at the ceiling, counting sheep in his head. And the silence that was too loud.  
  
Eyes closed but his mind was not. And Yamamoto couldn’t sleep.   
  
-  
  
 **04\. I'm going to meet you in my dreams again tonight**  
  
He woke up, feeling uncomfortable and sticky. The room was hot and stuffy, the sheets molded to his skin from sweat and from something else. He kicked the sheets, jumped off from the bed, gripping the dresser as he balanced his wobbly self then staggered to the bathroom. Switching on the lights, the brightness burnt his eyes; he stepped inside the shower, not bothering to strip.  
  
The cold water hit his skin like knives cutting into his flesh. Suddenly he was fully awake.  
  
But Yamamoto wanted to sleep again. He was never alone when he was dreaming. Dream was consisted of silver colors, sleek pale skin and constant shuddering moans.  
  
He was stiff again.   
  
Yamamoto was late when he reached the baseball field for practice.  
  
-  
  
 **04\. I want you so much, I can't go back**  
  
Though it was raining, Yamamoto didn’t move from his spot. He was soaking to the bone. His clothes stuck to him like second skin. Hair plastered on his head and he had no doubt some of his books were soaked too. Still, he stood and waited. It didn’t bother him. And when he finally tired, he leaned against the wall, head resting on the hard surface, waiting, always waiting. His fingers played with one of the buttons of his uniforms. And when Gokudera finally emerge from the school gate, he stood up straight, rubbing the back of his sore head and smiled.  
  
“Why the fuck are you here?”  
  
“I was waiting for you, Gokudera.”  
  
Gokudera frowned, and Yamamoto just laughed, feet bouncing sloppily on the pavement as they walked home together.  
  
-  
  
 **05\. I'm hoping you would listen to only what I had to say**  
  
He took a big carton of milk from the fridge and pour into the glass in his left hand. Few drops of water dripped from his wet hair into his glass. He shook his head, laughing to himself then set down the milk carton on the sink counter. He walked towards the small living room, rubbing his hair with the towel around his neck, while sipping on his milk. He was thinking about turning on the TV but then his father was asleep on the next room, the noise was bound to wake him up.  
  
Feeling restless and a little bit lonely, he changed his direction, walking towards the phone next to the staircase. He took the receiver off its handle then dialed the number he had memorized almost all his life. He listened to the dial tone while draining his last drop of milk. It took six full rings before Gokudera answer the phone.  
  
“What the fuck do you want? It’s almost midnight.”  
  
Barely conscious, he said, “I just want to hear your voice.”  
  
He could almost hear Gokudera froze on the other line. Stillness. Then a little distraught noise.   
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
“I just—” something stuck at his windpipe, he licked his lips, the remaining taste of milk.  
  
Before he managed to form for a complete sentence, the line went dead.  
  
Yamamoto didn’t hang up the phone until his palm was sweating from holding the receiver too long.  
  
-  
  
 **06\. They say I'm crazy - if I erase the world**  
  
Three days after he buried his father was the first time he was allowed to hold Gokudera.  
  
It was when Gokudera wrapped his arms around him that he finally realized; there were only two things that would get Gokudera to hold him; alcohol and death.  
  
He squeezed Gokudera tighter, pulling the other close until their faces were only an inch apart. Gokudera exhaled soundlessly, Yamamoto inhaled harshly, they shared the same bubble of air; and then he murmured almost to himself, “This game of ours— I don’t like it anymore.”  
  
“Idiot. It is never too late to quit.” Gokudera replied, rubbing his back in circular motion, soothing him, and it felt somewhat melancholy being held like that.  
  
Yamamoto wanted to scream but he ended up laughing.  
  
-  
 **  
07\. I can't reach you, touch you, hold you**  
  
Glaring from the bed, even with hospital gown and bandages around his chest, Gokudera still manage to look threatening.  
  
“If you bring me flowers like you did last time, I’ll kill you.”  
  
He gestured both of his empty hand towards Gokudera, before settling down on the only chair next to the bed. “You could’ve let me take the hit instead.”  
  
A wince, “As if I’ll let you die.”   
  
“So you’d rather take the bullet for me?”  
  
“Tch. I’m indestructible and you’re not besides I didn’t do it for you,” he snarled, “Tenth wouldn’t like it if I let you die, asshole.”  
  
There was a deep cut on his chin which probably going to leave a scar later, few bruises start forming on his abdomen and from the way the swollen on his wrist kept increasing, he might need a cast on it later; overall he was doing pretty well from his narrow escape of death. Very much alive.   
  
Still, looking at the injured man in front of him, Yamamoto felt like dying anyway.  
  
-  
  
 **08\. I'll give you everything when we kiss**  
  
Yamamoto nearly tripped over the books that were piling on the floor as he carried the limp body to the bed. The said limp body wasn’t helping either, he slumped further against Yamamoto, making the whole process more difficult than it should.   
  
Lowering Gokudera onto the bed, Yamamoto reached out his left arm and flicked on the lamp on the side table. Dim light spread into the whole room. He pulled his other arm that was pinned between Gokudera’s and the mattress, slowly, slowly, because he wouldn’t want to rouse the other guy from his drunken slumber. He was halfway through before Gokudera caught his wrist and tugged him softly towards him.  
  
“Stay.” Half-panting, half-slurring, he was almost glowing in the dark.  
  
Yamamoto halted, then let out an awkward laugh.  
  
Gokudera tugged harder, closer, until they were practically chest to chest, “I’m fucking horny, damn it.”   
  
The lamp on the table flickered twice. He looked down at Gokudera.  
  
It wasn’t supposed to be this way. God knows, for so many years he had longed for this moment, dreaming about this moment, fantasizing since he hit puberty, but it wasn’t supposed to happen this way.  
  
“Gokudera...”  
  
“Stay.” He repeated, looking less intoxicated than before.  
  
Phantom voice whispering in his head, _fight or flee, fight or flee?  
_  
There were two things that would get Gokudera to hold him. Alcohol and death.   
  
_Fight or flee?_  
  
There was a sharp intake of breath and then a slight wobbling movement. Yamamoto’s hands were trembling as he unbuttoned his shirt.  
  
-  
  
 **0.9 Why aren't you smiling today?**  
  
Seven weeks and six days since Tsuna’s death. Not even once did Gokudera cry. Time passed by. Second became hours, hours became days, and days balled up onto weeks and weeks onto months and every second that passed blanketed them with regrets, into one big giant of emotions.  
  
 _No amount of regrets would bring him back._  
  
The truth was, Yamamoto was afraid.  
  
 _No amount of truth would bring him back._  
  
All he could do was wait.  
  
Then it finally happened. It was a sunny day, it hadn’t been raining for the past one week, sunlight peeking through the curtain, and he could almost swear he smelled spring coming.  
  
The day when Gokudera became completely undone, Yamamoto stood quietly, watching, unsure what to do.   
  
_Because Gokudera wasn’t supposed to be broken._  
  
“I’m not about to break. You don’t need to fix me.” he whined. Gokudera never whined.  
  
Yamamoto pulled himself together as he watched Gokudera fell apart. Because later, no matter what, it was him, always him that would patch him back.  
  
-  
  
 **10\. I'm your number one fan**  
  
Somehow they survived until the end. The world didn’t stop rotating, the moon still orbiting and it was almost ironic that they were still alive and kicking.   
  
Yamamoto tightened his grip on the metal bat and swung it few times experimentally.  
  
“This feels like memories.”  
  
“Stop being a sentimental idiot.”  
  
It was too hot; the sun was directly above his head. Armani suits were not meant for an outing at the baseball field. He removed his jacket and threw it on the bench. Sweat pooling at the hollow of his collarbone. Slight breeze runs through his entire body.  
  
Standing middle of the baseball mound as he swung his bat, he felt the incredible surge of power.  
  
“Remember those days when you came here with Tsuna watching me play?” he asked, almost shouting to the other guy who was sitting on the front row bench.  
  
“Ugh. Don’t remind me. I was bored to death!” Gokudera shouted back.  
  
He smirked then laughed carelessly, “But you came to almost every game I played. Tsuna forced you, huh?”  
  
“Don’t say that, moron! Tenth never forced me to do anything.”  
  
“Why did you come then?” he lowered down his baseball bat to the ground, pausing to breathe.   
  
“Because, you overgrown imbecile—” Gokudera paused. He took a painfully long drag from his cigarette, his eyes almost smiling and Yamamoto had to squint because he was pretty sure he was hallucinating.  
  
“—I’m _your_ number one fan.”  
  
It took a while, but Yamamoto finally understood.  
  
-


End file.
